


If memory serves me right

by Keepoffthegrass



Category: Sherlock TV
Genre: M/M, different first time meeting., drug use., prostitution.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1790635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepoffthegrass/pseuds/Keepoffthegrass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John meets Sherlock for the first time when celebrating his last day before going to Afghanistan.  Sherlock sells himself to John for drug money.<br/>Years later they become flat mates. Will either of them remember?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Just one night

John Watson grinned happily as his small group of mates ordered another round. He was smiling at his friends, a couple of whom were leaving for Afghanistan with him tomorrow, he was smiling at the excitement and risk that lay seductively before him, and he was smiling at the tacky bar. Yes even the bar. The only thing missing from his happiness was the worry of his sister doing something crazy when he wasn't around to prevent it.  
One of his rugby pals suggested shots and of course none of them would say no, at least not before someone else did. Before long John was drunk. Not 'falling down' drunk or 'can't get it up' drunk, but his head was certainly swimming a little and he may have been giggling a bit more than usual. 

"You should get that gay curiosity out of your system before we go John" Bill Murray hicuped in his ear "You know in case you die or get your balls shot off. Plus it would suck to have a dishonorable discharge cause you couldn't say no to temptation when you asked some bloke to 'cough please'"  
John giggled. Yep definitely drunk-John Hamish Watson was not a giggler. Much. "True Bill very true. You always give the best advice you know that? I appreciate that, I really do, and listen, no listen, serious face now, I'm gonna make sure you don't die. I am, because that's how much I love you Bill" John declared before becoming distracted by a scene at the door. A tall young man with wild dark curls was gesturing madly at a stocky skinhead who shook his head and shoved him away. The tall one looked desperately around the bar before locking eyes with John and threading his way through the crowd toward him.

"Right on time!" Bill roared. "Tell me that isn't a sign? I could almost fancy him myself. Lets get home lads, some of us have got a country to invade in the morning"

John clutched his empty glass like a life line while cool eyes raked over him intently sizing him up. 

"You look like a good samaritan, fancy helping your fellow man?" he leaned over the bar and spoke into John's ear, deep voice contradicting his youthful face.

"I'm a doctor"John nodded, just managing not to giggle.

"I thought you might be. You have a kind face, reliable hands" the stranger took John's small but strong hands in his own cold elegant ones and placed them on his hips. John did giggle then "I'm not gay" he said.

The stranger smiled "I never said you were. Lets go somewhere more private yeah?"

In John's b and b he suddenly felt unsure. "I've never done anything like this before" he confessed. 

The younger man shrugged casually "First time for everything"

"Yeah. Yeah you're right. You can take the lot, I won't need it where I'm going. I want the whole thing though, I mean if that's ok?"

The man took the wallet that John held out. 80 quid. He felt a brief pang that his virginity would cost so little but he wanted the drug more. One more night to get off his face before Mycroft and Lestrade forced him to get clean. God they made him sick, bonding together like hens over a chick. They were worse than his parents. He made himself focus on the present. "Just so we're clear, you want to fuck me?"

"Desperately" John groaned.

In the end it wasn't as bad as he expected it would be, the doctor was more gentle than he should have been for which he was grateful, but of course it still hurt and John was too high on alcohol and bliss too notice.


	2. Blood and sand become ebony and ivory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to tumbleweedchaser for bookmarking  
> It was slightly better than this but my phone caused trouble and I lost it all and couldn't recall everything I wrote before.

John Watson got sent home from the army as somewhat of an invalid, and not even a proper one at that, he felt like a fraud compared to those who had lost limbs or who would be forever scarred from burns. Though it was with deep regret all round, the truth was he was useless-unfit for military service and a liability as a surgeon. He faced either an uncertain future or a very dull one handing out anti-depressants and birth control pills as a GP.  
The army had made him and now it was returning him broken: he felt like a jack-in-the-box that couldn't jump, a puppet whose strings had been cut, an old cuddly teddy bear after its fuzzy fluff has been completely worn away.

\-----

He sat unblinking and unthinking on his narrow single bed in his bland generic room, just waiting for the day to become night, both wanting and dreading the dreams and nightmares that would inevitably come. These days he only dreamt in tones of gold and scarlet and a cold dense gun metal grey.

Write a blog his therapist had said, it will honestly help she said. He didn't think that 'Thinking about re-decorating in shades of blood and brain matter' was what she had in mind though so he reluctantly went for a walk where he met an old friend.  
\-----  
Was Mike always this boring he thought to himself or was it just that everything was dull in comparison to his old life? As Mike chattered on he found himself mentally writing his blog entry: Took a walk in Russell Square gardens, met an old friend, bought a take-away coffee I couldn't really afford. ..

"Are you even listening John?"

"Sorry Mike I zoned out for a bit there. What were you saying?"

Mike nodded with a look of pity on his face and fake understanding and John felt his teeth clench together. 

"I said why don't you get a flat share?"

"Who'd want me as a flat mate?" John answered bitterly.

"You're the second person to say that to me today" Mike laughed.  
And that was how John Watson met Sherlock Holmes and other colours began to creep into his dreams, black and white and dark aubergine, pale grey and ice blue.  
He felt like he belonged, he felt needed, it was intoxicating, plus nice home and stuff to blog about. It was better then fine, it was better then good-it was bloody fantastic.

\-----  
Sherlock was lounging on the couch idly tuning his violin so John took the opportunity to sneak peeks at him over the top of his newspaper. Lately John had been getting the feeling that Sherlock was vaguely familiar.

"That's the third time you've casually lowered your paper to look at me. If being stuck here without a case brings out your homosexual leanings then go to the Diogenes and ask for the full treatment. I'll put a call in to Mycroft and tell him to find someone who looks like me" Sherlock smirked.

"No one looks like you, that's the problem" John muttered before his brain caught up with his ears. "Wait. What?!"

"Really John you didn't just think that the Diogenes was somewhere to read the paper in silence? And people think I'm naive about sex"

"I've got a girlfriend ta very much"

"By all means take Victoria with you, she'd like to watch. She's more wild then she wants you to know, no that's not it-she's waiting until she knows you better before she tells you"

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that! And it's Vanessa actually" John huffed abandoning his paper prop. "And for the love of God, for the last time, I'm not gay!"

Sherlock smiled. "I never said you were"

"That! Right then!" John pointed a finger at Sherlock with a yell. "Say that again!"

"I never said you were" Sherlock repeated with an eye roll.

"Not like that, smile like you mean it and then say it nicely"

"Umm, no. Not without good reason anyway" Sherlock twanged a couple of strings, just in case John didn't realise how annoying he was being. 

"I can't explain it" John sighed "Don't you ever feel like we've met before?"

"We did, in Bart's a year ago. You didn't come with the flat John"

"Real funny, here was I thinking you didn't even know what a joke was! It's like when you wake up some mornings and you can't remember what you dreamt about, you just have some vague idea that Barbara Windsor was pulling you a pint in the Queen Vic. You know?"

Sherlock stared at John for several long moments as though he had grown another head.  
"That sentence made zero sense to me, plus I don't dream" he shrugged.

"Everyone dreams Sherlock. Just forget I said anything ok? " John slumped back in his chair sounding lost.

Sherlock frowned. John shouldn't sound like that, John was strong and certain of himself. He was compass and anchor.  
"Perhaps we passed each other on the street sometime or you were in earshot when I made some caustic remark? Living with me might jog your memory I suppose"

John laughed a bit. "More than likely you're right, you usually are after all"


	3. That eureka moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry chapters are short, looks like more on phone.  
> For tumbleweedchaser.  
> Hope readers enjoy the ending, it gets a bit fluffy lol, but I tried to keep the subtle humour that the first two parts had.  
> Forgot to say, the pink pussy comes from P G Wodehouses blandings, how jack farthing ever says that with a straight face I don't know :-)

Things went back to normal, or what passed for normal for them, Sherlock solved impossible cases and John broke up with Vanessa when he found out just how wild she was-breath play in a coffin? No thank you! He still felt like he was missing something where Sherlock was concerned, like having a word on the tip of your tongue that your brain has no command over. Mostly he ignored it, however he couldn't when he came home one evening after a day at work to find the heating full blast and all the windows closed. 

John gasped when he opened the door and the hot air hit him, it was like walking into an oven, and the sight of Sherlock's naked back to him made him gasp even louder. A shirtless Sherlock, John discovered, really gave him a sense of deja vu. Perfect curls turned into slightly fluffy frizz as they lay damply at the nape of his long neck, seemingly endless lean pale torso giving way to the surprising curves of an arse that John wanted, no needed, to squeeze. And where the fuck did that thought come from?! 

"Sherlock what the hell are you doing?"

"Experiment" 

"Well you look like you've been at it all day so I'm calling it a day now! Christ knows what the electric bill will be" John grumbled as he went to fling open the windows. 

"John no! " Sherlock went to stop him but he had in fact been at it all day and the heat was making his head swim unpleasantly. He slipped and John caught him. "Always there to catch me" Sherlock murmured "My dependable doctor with reliable hands"  
John frowned as he tried to chase a memory blown like a leaf by the autumn wind. "You've said that before, about my hands"

"Have I? Can't say I remember, you know what I'm like"

John smiled fondly and time hung momentarily suspended as they gazed into each others eyes, contact only breaking when John glanced at Sherlock's mouth.  
John tightened his grip on Sherlock's sweaty waist, enough to hurt and leave a mark, but strangely Sherlock didn't feel inclined to care. Silence was dragging though so he did think he should break it. "I should probably take a shower"  
John's fingers gripped convulsively as if he were handling a stress ball, before relaxing and releasing as he felt Sherlock tense. "I'm sorry" he said as he stepped back, reluctantly letting his flat mate go.

***

Once, many years ago, all right far less then he liked to admit, Sherlock had had to resort to selling his body for drug money. In his defense, as he told himself, it was only once and he hadn't touched drugs since. In fact he got so spectacularly off his head with the money that A, it was a minor miracle he survived, and B, he couldn't remember anything about being de-flowered or the de-flower-er. Once he drifted back into his usual diamond sharp mind however, he made a mental note on the length and size of the finger marks that had been left behind by his enthusiastic and vigorous, if somewhat sloppy (deduction? most likely drunk)partner.  
As he stood under the spray of tepid water Sherlock overlaid the prints John had made with the ones of that night, up in the attic of his mind palace, to find they fit perfectly, an exact match in fact.

***

The men used to say; never tell your biggest secrets to Bill Murray, not even when drunk because the man had a mind like an elephant. For once John was hoping that the rumours were true.

"Hey Bill its John, sorry to call you up on your leave time but I need that infamous memory of yours"

"Any time John, you know that. We should get a pint before my next tour yeah?!"

"I'd really like that Bill" John smiled "So anyway, remember that place we went to before we shipped out to Afghan?"

"The pink pussy, yeah I remember it" Bill chuckled "The place you finally, hopefully at least, dealt with your gay curiosity. I looked back before I left and you had your hands on him already!"

"Yeaah about that" John dragged the word out, stalling for time. "What did he look like this mystery bloke?"

"Oh God please don't tell me you think he's your girlfriends brother or something?" 

John huffed in irritation as he could tell Bill was just dying to burst out laughing. "No nothing like that. We broke up anyway, I'm between girlfriends"

"Best place to be" Bill did laugh then. "Alright; he was a tall guy, slim, very pale. .."

"Did he have dark curly hair by any chance?"

"He did. John, why are you asking this? "

"Shit! Shit and damn! He's my bloody flat mate Bill. I paid to shag my very asexual flat mate!"

"What, that detective? Wait you paid?! I thought he was just interested."

John sighed "The only thing he was interested in comes in plastic baggies. I've got to go before he hears me talking to you. I'll text you later"

John disconnected the call, staring dumbly at the mobile in his hand before heading up to his room to figure out what to do. Unfortunately Sherlock happened to be in his room, sprawled on his bed.

"Too hot downstairs. Obvious" Sherlock answered before John even had time to ask what he was doing there.

John let it go, he had more important issues. "Mycroft is going to kill me" came out without his consent.

"What? Why?" Sherlock sat up with a puzzled frown.

"That isn't what I meant to say. Did you ever go to the pink pussy?" John blurted out.

"That place in Camden that closed a couple of years back? I might have, not socially though!" Sherlock looked aghast at the very thought.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to stem the tide of rising hysteria that was threatening to engulf him. "I'm not completely stupid despite what you think, you went there to buy drugs, fine I don't care about that, but Christ Sherlock, I paid you to have sex with me! How can you not remember that? "

"Well really it was more like you paid me to let you have sex with ME...I don't think I understand what it is exactly you're upset about" Sherlock admitted. "You suddenly recall you're the doctor who fucked me, so what? Are you worried about catching something? because it's a bit late, and for your information I wasn't a whore-that was the first and last time. I was having a cash flow problem and you looked like a bi curious mug. What do you know? I was right you were!"

"Charming as always. Well I hope you enjoyed sticking shit in your veins, up your nose and probably every other orifice!" John retorted before storming out

***

"I know it was you John, evidence doesn't lie, but I don't remember any of it"

It was midnight when John slunk back in, only to almost have a coronary when Sherlock's sinful voice materialized in the dark.

"You were the first in every way and I find myself wishing I did have a memory of that night..." John couldn't move or speak as the swish of Sherlock's silk robe moved closer, rather like a bad horror film he unhelpfully thought.

"I was your first? you mean...? Mycroft really will kill me" John groaned as his brain finally came back online.

"I can handle him" Sherlock whispered suddenly in front of John "You should worry about handling me. Still curious doctor?"

John stood there with his mouth open until a long slender finger shut it.  
"As flattering as I'm sure it is, I don't fancy being drooled on" Sherlock laughed.

"I didn't think you were interested in that kind of thing?" John managed to say while his mind was chanting 'please say I was wrong please say I was wrong'

"Oh I'm not. Usually, you seem to be the exception to the rule in all things...now are you going to help me make some memories or what?"

"God yes! I'll make it good for you I promise; if I'd known that was your first time I wouldn't have made you..."

"Please, you didn't make me! I appreciated the money. You should know the price has gone up now,inflation and everything"

"You're worth a hundred times what I paid" John replied without thinking causing Sherlock to stop and stare as though seeing John for the first time.

"My doctor" he smiled one of those special smiles that were for John and John alone. "It's right that it was you, I wouldn't have wanted it to have been anyone else. Now come and show me what those reliable hands can do"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also for multihappydayz and pipi


End file.
